


A Helping Hand

by lionheartedghost



Series: Evan Buckley Week 2020 [3]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Evan Buckley Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionheartedghost/pseuds/lionheartedghost
Summary: “288 Pine,” he repeated, looking to Bobby for confirmation. “Is that what it said?”Bobby didn’t answer him. That said it all.Hen paused on the step of the truck. “Isn’t that your apartment building?”A call hits a little too close to home for Buck. Literally.Written for Evan Buckley Week, Day 3: “Please don’t close your eyes!” + hurt
Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Evan Buckley Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675246
Comments: 8
Kudos: 244





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Evan Buckley Week, Day 3.
> 
> Prompt: “Please don’t close your eyes!” + hurt.
> 
> Also posted on Tumblr.

Buck shifted in his seat. He tried to swallow against the dryness in his throat, but it stuck, sand-papery and uncomfortable. He glanced at the familiar streets rushing by the window, focused on the steady rumbling of the truck, tried to focus on the job at hand and not what it might mean.  
  
Eddie knocked his knee gently against Buck’s. “Are you alright?” He murmured, his voice so quiet Buck could barely hear him over the sound of the engine.  
  
Buck nodded automatically. “Fine.”  
  
Eddie didn’t look convinced.  
  
The alarms had gone off as normal, calling them to the truck. Buck had been pulling on his turnout jacket when the robotic buzz of the speaker read out the address; he’d paused, one sleeve hanging limply at his side.  
  
“288 Pine,” he repeated, looking to Bobby for confirmation. “Is that what it said?”  
  
Bobby didn’t answer him. That said it all.  
  
Hen paused on the step of the truck. “Isn’t that your apartment building?”  
  
He’d been trying not to think about it on the ride over, but that was easier said than done. It was his neighbourhood they were in, that was the corner store he went to for milk, that was the park he went through for his morning run.  
  
Buck knocked on the cab of the truck. “Did they give you an apartment number yet?”  
  
“3A.” Bobby twisted to meet his eye. “Do you know them?”  
  
3A. The apartment down the hall from him.  
  
“That’s Mr and Mrs Johnson.” Buck tried to ignore the coldness washing over him. “Arthur and Mary. They’re in their eighties. I, uh, I check in on them from time to time. Pick up groceries. Take the trash out for them once a week. They’re nice people.”  
  
Bobby nodded once.  
  
Buck caught the look Bobby gave him as the truck pulled up in front of his building. Careful, appraising, a tactician trying to establish the best play. There was a silent question in it that Buck couldn’t miss: are you up for this? Buck set his jaw in a wordless response: always.  
  
Bobby led the way into the building, and Buck had never been more grateful to him. He took a step back as Bobby knocked at the door, loud and insistent.  
  
“Hello?” Bobby called through the wood panelling. “LAFD. Did someone call for help?”  
  
The door opened; a small, anxious-looking elderly woman clutched at the door frame, her gaze nervously flitting over the firefighters in the hall. Her eyes met Buck’s, recognition registering instantly, some of the tension easing away.  
  
“Oh, thank goodness, it’s you.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I hoped it would be.”  
  
“Hi, Mrs Johnson.” Buck gave her a smile he hoped looked more real than it felt. “Are you okay?”  
  
“It’s Arthur.” She stepped back into the apartment, leaving the door open for them to follow. “I told him he shouldn’t try to move it. I said he couldn’t, but he didn’t listen to me. He thinks he’s stronger than he is.”  
  
Buck paused so abruptly in the middle of the living room that Chim walked into the back of him.  
  
Mr Johnson lay in the middle of the room, his breathing little more than a tinny rattling in his chest. On top of Mr Johnson, its doors askew and its glass plating scattered in fragments across the rug, was a china cabinet.  
  
“That thing’s gotta be, what, 250 pounds?” Chim guessed, murmuring to Hen as they surveyed the damage.  
  
“Looks like he took it all to his chest, too.” Hen dropped the kit bag by her feet. “You thinking broken ribs, punctured lung? His breathing-”  
  
“Arthur, the firefighters are here.” Mrs Johnson reached down for the hand not trapped beneath the cabinet, crouching down so she could hold it to her chest. “Look, they sent the nice young man from down the hall.”  
  
“Mind the glass, Mrs Johnson.” Buck knelt carefully beside her. He glanced up at Bobby before turning back to Arthur, placing two fingers against the man’s neck to feel his pulse. “Hi, Mr Johnson. It’s Buck; do you remember me?”  
  
Mr Johnson grunted.  
  
“I told him not to move the thing,” Mrs Johnson said. “I told him, Arthur, you wait until Brian and David come for dinner next weekend , they’ll move it for you. Or if you’re that desperate, you ask that nice boy who checks in every week, he’ll help.” Mrs Johnson patted Buck on the arm. “He’s proud, that’s the problem.”  
  
Bobby crouched down beside Buck. “How’s he looking?”  
  
Buck chewed the inside of his cheek. “Pulse is weak,” he muttered.  
  
“Then we need to move him.” Bobby stood, considering the cabinet. “Buck, Eddie, let’s get this off him. Carefully.”  
  
Mrs Johnson reached for Buck’s hand as he got to his feet. “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”  
  
“We’re gonna help him, Mrs Johnson,” Buck promised. “Can you take a step back so we can work?”  
  
He helped her up and waited for her to move clear before taking hold of the edge of the cabinet.  
  
“Stay with us, Mr Johnson,” Buck said quietly. “Don’t close your eyes, okay? We’ll get you through this. You’ll be fine.”  
  
“You ready?” Bobby asked, waiting for the confirming nods. “Okay, on three: one, two, three.”  
  
Buck heard the change in Mr Johnson’s breathing the second they’d lifted the cabinet off him. Hen and Chim moved in as they set the cabinet upright, a stethoscope pressed to Mr Johnson’s chest, backboard at the ready.  
  
“We need to get him in, Cap,” Hen said, fixing a cervical collar into place. “Right now.”  
  
“Copy.” Bobby gestured for Eddie to help, moving to stand beside Mrs Johnson as they lifted her husband onto the backboard. “Ma’am, our paramedics are going to take your husband to the hospital, and they’re going to do everything they can for him. Do you want to ride with him?”  
  
Mrs Johnson nodded, following after her husband. She froze in the doorway. “I need to lock the door. I… the keys are in the kitchen somewhere, I don’t-”  
  
“I’ll find them and lock up for you, Mrs Johnson.” Buck smiled reassuringly. “I’ll come back and sweep up that glass for you later, too.”  
  
She took his hand, patted it briefly, and then she was gone.  
  
Bobby waited in the hall for him as he found the keys in the little pot on the kitchen counter and locked the door behind him.  
  
“They’re lucky they’ve got you,” Bobby said, resting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Buck ducked his head. “I help out a little. Anyone would do the same.”  
  
“Not everyone would, kid.” Bobby squeezed his shoulder before letting go. “Come on; we’ve done everything we can.”

*

The bunks were quiet. He’d thought the silence was what he’d wanted, at first, but now it was heavy and oppressive, suffocating him, rushing in his ears. Buck curled his fingers into the sheets beneath him.

He’d been jittery while they’d waited for Hen and Chim to come back. He’d put away his gear. He’d checked the equipment on the truck. He’d made the first lot of coffee for everyone, although he’d drunk his so quickly that he’d nearly scalded his throat. He’d taken to pacing the upper level before Bobby finally told him to sit, to breathe, to take a minute.

But he hadn’t managed to get that far before the ambulance drove into the station.

He’d known what had happened the moment Hen and Chim had stepped out. He could see it in the way Chim’s shoulders slumped, the way Hen pressed her lips together. He’d known before they looked up and caught sight of him, his arms folded on top of the railing. He’d known before Chim gave a minute shake of the head, eyes dropping once again to the floor.

“He coded en route to the hospital,” he heard Hen tell Bobby. “We tried to get him back, but…”

He’d excused himself, then, and pretended he couldn’t feel the weight of their eyes on him as he took the stairs and closed the door to the bunk room firmly behind him.

The door creaked on its hinges as it was pushed open before shutting again with a soft thud. Buck kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor, even when the mattress dipped as someone sat on the bunk beside him.

“Hey.” Eddie nudged him lightly with his elbow. “How are you doing?”

Buck opened his mouth to respond. Instead, slowly, he shook his head.

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “I get that.”

“I told her I’d go back and sweep up the glass for her,” Buck said. He scrubbed a hand down the side of his face.

“We’ll sort it. Don’t worry about it.”

“I just…” Buck swallowed. “I told him he’d be fine.”

Eddie placed a hand on Buck’s knee. “It’s okay.”

Buck sniffed. “I’m not… I can’t go back out there yet. The way they’re gonna look at me… I know they get it, I know, but I can’t. I can’t, Eddie.”

“So we stay here for a while,” Eddie said. “For as long as you want.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, kudos and comments are much appreciated!
> 
> You can find me over on Tumblr [here](http://lionheartedghost.tumblr.com/)!.
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe and well!


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